The Walk-Off
by Tokio Sunset
Summary: Leon has long decided that the baseball gig wasn't for him, but changing his title proves to be somewhat difficult for a man with no motivation to change. Sayaka's constant nagging isn't helping, but will her persistence finally push him out of his idle acceptance? Rated T for language.


It all started one glorious winter night when Sayaka Maizono kicked unlucky Leon Kuwata in the balls after confusing him for her friend's debaucher.

Unknowingly, the slight confusion resulted in the idol singer taking a badly beaten, limping baseball player into her flat, where she had to explain the victim to her curious parent. Their exchange mostly revolved around the fact that Leon was unable to go home at the time (and Sayaka insisted that he did not need to say why). Be it good manners, resignation or simply avoiding conflict with their daughter, her father allowed him to spend the night on the living room couch.

When he exited the ruckus in his home earlier that evening, Leon expected to spend the night wandering in the snow and reflecting back on his thoughts. He never dreamed that three hours later, he would be in the presence of a charming young angel, who nursed his wounds he earned in an impromptu bar fight. He had tried to defend a strange girl's honor from two ghastly brutes that hounded her like a pack of wolves. Of course, in his version, he single-handedly battled against a motorcycle gang of sixteen – "One had a knife!" – and sent them running for their lives. Sayaka listened, not believing a single word. Then again, how could she? The man screamed like he was getting skinned alive when she tried to tighten one of his bandages.

He received more than care and shelter for the night, however. Neither knew if it was the broken, vacant look in the visitor's eye, or the heat of the crackling fire in the hearth of the living room, or maybe something else entirely, but the two began to talk. The topics of their conversation were many; from the real reason behind his escape, to her career as a pop sensation. Leon regretfully admitted that he had never heard of her, and though she couldn't believe it at first, she somehow found herself more attracted to him _because_ he saw her as a normal girl, rather than a celebrity.

They talked about everything, nothing, about the passing of seasons and fulfillment of wishes. He talked about his dream of becoming a band's front man, and she assured him that he could. In return, Sayaka enthused about how much she loved all the girls in her group, how excited she was for their new album to come out, where they would have their first official concert. She delivered her words with her usual girlish glee, sometimes through giggles and vigorous nodding. In honesty, Leon did not catch every small detail of her life. Sometimes his gaze would soften, and he'd start being far more interested in how the smooth golden glow of the fireplace looked against her porcelain skin, and how the loose ribbons in her hair moved and tangled with each jerk of her head. Her words would become a comforting drawl, like rocking waves or the sound of a fresh, spring morning. He'd say nothing during that trance, and simply nod and laugh to himself when he thought it was appropriate.

Sayaka, however, always knew how to bring back his attention, usually by asking him a vague question along the lines of, "What do you think about that?", and watching him stumble over his answer. The two talked deep into the night, oblivious to the snowflakes that pounded on the windowsill or her father listening in on the two, rolling his eyes at the banal subjects they droned on about for hours. All that mattered to them was the other's voice.

In short, Leon was looking towards a night he'd spend alone. Instead, he was blessed with a companion. Somebody who honestly did not care about his baseball feats. A person who was interested in his dream, and determined to help pursue it. Sayaka Maizono, a slightly abrasive yet enchanting young teenager with a bright, glimmering future ahead of her, chose to become Leon's friend that night.

Neither of them could exactly pinpoint why.

/***/

As it turned out, changing titles was hard work. At least, it was hard work for somebody who had no drive to do something about his unwanted reputation as a sports jock.

"How was that?" Sayaka asked, lowering her hands and turning around. He lifted up his chin and bit his lip. She was referring to a high note in the song she was rehearsing, knowing full well that it was her weak spot. Leon adjusted the guitar back on his thigh, looking at the large clock on the wall. It was twenty minutes until five. He should have been on his way by now.

"Sounds good," he assured, pale blue eyes flying over her again. He put his fingers in the C chord position, his thumb on the fifth string and awaiting her sign. She smiled and turned back to the empty chairs at empty tables, which represented her make-believe audience.

She cleared her throat.

Starting right on cue, Leon had some trouble concentrating on chord progression, not because he found it difficult, but mostly because his mind was on a different plane. Today was the biggest game of his season, the greatest night of his life that he couldn't miss on his life, the last night he could ever spend as an amateur, the first time when he would truly be seen as a master of his trade, able to compete in the big leagues all around the world, play in front of thousands of roaring fans, become immortalized in The Hall of Fame, on baseball cards, in museums…

By night time, he was supposed to be in Nishinomiya.

But he did not want to be.

Winning the game would have been an honor, no doubt about it. And his victory would bring him scholarships and new job opportunities as well. But on the other hand, there was something deeply seeded inside Leon's mind. The sensation was a crawly, slimy kind, the one that made him grimace at the mere mention of his team or even the tournament. It was disgust.

He was already sick to death of the sport. He never had a say in it, however. It was far easier to allow him to be a master of one trade, even if he only played it to meet girls. Even that one goal had stopped mattering, when he discovered how fulfilling his practice with Sayaka was. Playing baseball was dust, dirt, sweat and grime. Music, on the other hand… it was creation. Sure, Sayaka's music wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but it was a start. Working with her gave him inspiration, calloused his fingers and taught him how satisfying it was to compose and sing in the soft orange light; when the late afternoon sun hit the wide window and shone over the room, making it look smooth, almost gilded. Fragile ornamental plants quivered under the vibrations of Sayaka's voice, which could alternate from being hot as hell to sweet as a lullaby. The warmth in this room was almost palpable; soft and comforting as a security blanket. And sometimes he'd look at her, with a hand pressed on her heart as she concentrated deeply, her eyes shut tight. On stage, she was forced to dance and move along with the other singers, but during these lessons, she was free to focus on her voice. It needed to be perfect, to shatter somebody's soul and patch it together during a span of three short minutes.

Leon waited for these rehearsals to become repetitive and boring. He wanted the bright sun to blind him, Sayaka's voice to annoy him, to start feeling like he truly did not belong in the music room. That feeling never came, however. Those dry runs were the most blissful moments of his life. And he hated it.

"_We sought for each other, lost ourselves at times…" _she sung, cocking open an eye at the baseball player, who was busy looking at the ticking timepiece above the blackboard. _"But still I came back into your arms, longing for your – _LEON!"

"Huh?" The man jolted, his guitar falling into his lap with a _plink_. He smiled sheepishly at her form, scratching the back of his head. He had finally begun to grow out his hair, sick of always keeping it shorn short. It was a strange side-effect to its new length. He couldn't get his fingers out of it. "Uhh… sorry. I got distracted, and I… I actually think we should stop right here." He took the acoustic guitar by the neck and stood up from the metal folding chair, still reluctant to make his way towards the door.

Sayaka's eyes widened. She stood akimbo, head forward like she was trying to see something that was blurry and unreadable to her. This was a strange comparison, as Sayaka could almost always read Leon like an open book.

"Don't tell me you're ditching me to go to a game!" Her voice was naturally sweet, as fit for her cutesy style of singing. Meaning it took extra effort and infuriation to get it shrill and piercing as it was now. "We talked about this, Leon! I need you here! I have to practice!"

"It's not just a game, Sayaka, it's the biggest tournament of my life!" He demanded, putting the instrument on the seat behind him. He knew all too well that this little justification would not go well with Sayaka. She did not care for sports. At all.

"That's what you said about the last two games you've played!"

"Well, they've been the most important games of my life! Because they've been leading up to this moment! Now if you'll excuse me," he said, taking his backpack that laid under his feet, "I have a train to catch."

"God damn it, Leon!" She cut his path, stretching out her arms as he tried to stroll past her. He shifted on the balls of his feet to try and move around her but she intercepted his movements, like a shorter, dark-haired mirror image of himself. "You promised you would quit this baseball thing! It's making you miserable!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes, it is!" She pouted her lips and tightened her knuckles until they became veiny and white. "Whenever you talk about your team, you complain! You're bored, and aggravated, and it's completely draining your creative stamina!"

"It's one fucking game, Sayaka!"

"You always say that!" She furrowed her brow, magma bubbling out of her eyes, and her usually colorful presence was now grim and gray under the weight of her irritation towards Leon. "It's always one game with you! _One game and I'll quit_!"

Leon pulled his lips into his mouth as he tried not to get insulted by her impersonation of him that featured a void glance to the side and a droopy jaw. She even scratched her head like a monkey to top it all off.

"_One game and I'll quit and join a band, babe, and I'll be touring with you just like I said. _You're never gonna quit!" Her expression returned to its default, furious self. "You'll never get out because you're already too deep into your comfort zone! You're a coward, Leon! You're nothing but a spineless wimp!"

"Hey!" He finally snapped back, pointing at her. He held his backpack over his left shoulder, letting it flap around his back while he made his rejoinder. "Maybe I'm still sticking with baseball but that's only because I respect my team!"

"You hate your team!" Sayaka was pulling hair at this point, unable to comprehend how long and wide Leon's stubbornness could reach. "You never say anything nice about them!"

"That has nothing to do with it! We're together, and we play, and I would be a fucking asshole if I left 'em!"

"And if you left me? Leaving me would be a pretty asshole move of you, too! Leon, my concert is in three days, I'm really freaking out about this ending note! I need you to back me or else…"

Leon groaned in frustration, his hand cupping the back of his neck and rubbing it. "Sayaka, just… stop." His palm went around the axis of his neck, up his chin until he was pinching his temples with his thumb and middle ginger. He breathed hard, trying to steady his voice. "Stop playing the victim here. _I'm_ the one who's late for a match, _I'm_ the one who's gonna get his ass handed to 'im, _I'm_ the one who doesn't have time for your psychotic bullshit!"

At this point, it would probably be a good idea to say that Leon and Sayaka usually fought about this. It became something daily by now; a friendly little quarrel where words like _bitch_, _bullshit_ and _idiot_ fluttered about like springtime butterflies. It could have been brought down to one primary point; Leon was not driven enough to fulfill his dream and Sayaka was too motivated to succeed for her own good. These fights would be resolved quickly. Either Leon would win the game and be somewhat happy with his Super High School Level title for a brief period of time, or Sayaka would take the high road, bite her cheek and change the subject. These fights would go on for hours, even days if one of them lost the patience to debate and left the room, putting aside the argument to hang in the air and become heavy and rancid, and by the time they would get back to the subject, they would rip each other's heads off.

Judging by everything, this would be one of those arguments. Leon strode along, pushing Sayaka to the side. Outraged by this, she turned to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him further away.

"You can't keep doing this, Leon!" The idol singer spoke through clenched teeth, sliding on her feet that were fixed into the floor to stop the man from walking away. At that moment, she had about as much beauty and grace as a wildebeest, and it would be strange to think that this girl has been known across the nation for her charisma and appeal, or that she had gone double-platinum before the age of fifteen. "You're always gonna be a baseball all-star. I don't care if you don't want people to see you like that, but if you don't do anything about it, that's what you'll always be to them! Just a jock! Just a dime-a-dozen sports nut!"

At that note, Leon stopped still. His head bowed down, and remained there for some time, long enough for Sayaka to start feeling uneasy. She let him go, even stepping back. The man was inches away from the door, but refused to move away and leave. A large, icy-blue eye moved across her stature, and when the man spoke, it was all too clear that they would have another clash as soon as they met face-to-face again. His following words would be an addition, a closing statement, as well as a new topic to fight over. Sayaka's eyes became electric, like spheres of lightening. She knew that he couldn't have the last word and leave like a winner after this. She couldn't allow him.

"You know what, Sayaka?" He started, but his tone was low and lifeless. It was the voice of a man who had lost too many times to count, and simply decided to give it all away, to give it the old, useless college try, knowing that there was nothing he could say at this point that would make her back off. "You talk a lot of shit for a person who never even had the decency to come to one of my games."

For an instant, nobody said a word. Sayaka parted her crimson lips, taking in a long breath to fuel her cascade of accusing phrases. Yet nothing came out. She stood in petrifying silence, and Leon smirked, basking in the glow that was the illusion of being right. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

"Your little 'supportive friend' act would work a lot better if you weren't always such a God damn hypocritical bitch. But I guess it's not up to me to tell you who you should be."

He stepped out through the door, open ajar, not even looking back at his companion. She watched him leave, glaring through the gap on the wall. If the idiot could leave her hanging like that, the least he could have done was shut the door on his way out. Her fingers curled like tendrils aflame, her nails digging deep into the skin of her palm. The velvety, golden afternoon had come and passed, and she was alone in the music hall again, awaiting dusk.

The air of the argument that Leon was clever enough to escape from hung gloomily above her. She envisioned it as a tower of dust and smog. It wisped in a column, producing tendrils that grew angrier, longer, reaching through the twisting tornado that tried to capture her. If it did, or rather, if she let it, she would wait for Leon to come again and attempt to break him in sight. This time, however, she withheld her urge to become mad. She resisted the temptation to turn this day into something vile and ugly, because at this moment, she saw how pathetic and childish those arguments seemed.

Shaking her head, Sayaka picked up the sheet music from a black, plastic holder that wobbled on two legs. She tucked them under her arm, looking through the window again, into the red setting sun.

The singer watched right up until the ticking of the wall clock sounded like explosions in her head. Screwing her eyes shut, she bolted out of the classroom, the sheets of paper under her arm fluttering and falling to the ground, like snowflakes.

/***/

"_Strike one!"_

The umpire shouted behind Leon, who was gazing off into the distance and had no idea that the ball landed at his feet. He shook his head to awaken from his daze, squinting again at the bright neon lights that seemed to conjoin and shine on him alone. He heard the loud chatter of cheering fans, most of them asking how Leon Kuwata, of all players, could have missed that one shot. He looked across and saw the smug face of the pitcher, who was dressed in a white uniform with three blue stripes on either sleeve, tossing the ball in the palm of his hand. The opponent lifted up his leg to steady his balance, spitting out a phlegm the size of a quarter on the verdant, grassy field.

Gross.

Winded and aggravated from the long train ride over, Leon was more or less dead on his feet. He had no wish to spend the following game time standing in the dust, getting ridiculed by his fans, watching the opposing team spit in front of him and, above all, keep _losing_.

"Strike two!"

His eyes widened as soon as the crowds started booing. He looked around to see his benched teammates gesturing a few profanities, and his coach scrunching up his cap with the tip of his shoe. In his defense, Leon did not even see that shot. It might as well have come from outer space.

But that was enough kidding around. He took his baseball cap by the peak, twisting it to the back of his head in one fluid motion. Biting the inside of his cheek, he took a good, solid grip on the baseball bat and swiveled it, flexing his arms.

Like a human spring, his arms stretched out, holding out the long club as straight as an arrow. By the time the third ball came his way, he smashed it with enough force to turn it into a pancake. It foiled around the bat for a millisecond, coiling into its centre and flying off, over the other team, plopping right into the outfield. Before it hit the ground, Leon sped across the field and slid straight on the third base, flinging soot and dust into the other players before they could hear the ball fall. His leg twisted for a moment, a foot away from his plate. He refused to let this faze him, jumping and landing on the base with his arms stretched out triumphantly. The crowd turned their jeers into cheers; some stood up in euphoric waves. The atmosphere became electric, the other team's jealousy tangible as they threw their mitts on the ground in frustration, gritting their teeth at the virtuoso.

Leon, however, wasn't feeling any of it. He made the hit and ran to third, but after that he was left with nothing. There was no thrill of the game, no purpose for all this running. His folks were cheering him on somewhere, in the stands. They expected him to dominate the whole field, most likely. Now, Leon thought, they were scratching their heads and averting their eyes because their son could not make each hit a home run. He shook his head, dragging his feet over the slick surface of the field.

And then _something _- a sharp, stabbing sort of something - swept straight through his calf, a powerful strike that had him grabbing at his leg. His fingers dug deep into the hard muscle that became stiff and refused to limber up. He pressed his heel into the ground and stretched the leg, but this merely made it worse; the tie in his leg remained as stiff as a Gordian knot.

The spasm transpired during his sprint, but he hadn't felt it on account of his overwhelming desire to score the point and give the crowd a reason to shout his name. That must have been the highlight of his profession once. Adoration and appraisal. But now, the spark was gone, and the only thing left was searing pain. He cursed his foolishly steadfast decision that stretching before matches was for pussies and training was useless. With a look of complete pitiable submission, he looked at his coach, who was standing near the benches.

He waved to him, gesturing to the locker room.

It was easy to take no notice of his coach's disapproval, what with the commentary from the observation booth and the cheering crowd.

"_It's about time Kuwata woke up," _a very prim, very fit-for-radio voice noted from a glass room above the arena. _"I gotta say, though. This was not a performance you'd expect from a Super High School Level Student."_

"_Well, Tadashi," _his co-anchor responded through a sigh, "_these days it looks like they're giving the titles away. They're branding hall monitors, lucksters, collectors, rich kids… h-hold on!" _His voice became high-pitched and excited for a second. _"It looks like Kuwata is looking back. He's holding out his arm… he's trying to point some – nope, it's a middle finger. Leon Kuwata is flipping us the bird. Aaand he's walking out. How disappointing."_

"_Horrible sportsmanship. And what's this? Ladies and gentleman, Kuwata is leaving the playing field. He may be injured."_

"_Injured from what? That was barely a swing!"_

"_That's for the team doctor to decide. And just when I thought we were getting a show here. What a shame."_

"_What a shame, indeed. That right there is what happens when you don't get good players motivated. They get soft!"_

"_One last booing before he gets inside… the crowd really is fickle when it comes to him. But! The game goes on, there's a new player substituting him and it looks like we might have some excitement around here…"_

_/***/_

Leon was sitting inside the locker room; his foot folded and propped on his thigh. The medic had told him to keep it in position, dismissing the possibility of him spraining a tendon and insisting that it was a cramp that only needed to be exercised. The more he fought against the knotted muscle, the more it hurt, up to the point where the baseball player couldn't even stand on his feet. Normally, Leon would protest against the doctor's advice to stay out of the game. This time, however, as he listened to the burr of the crowds cheering for the opposing team, he felt relieved that he would not have to face them. There was too much on his mind. Alarms and sirens went off in his head; his body was working against it. It was like every fiber of his being was trying to stop him from playing, and finally, he caved in.

His fingers trailed along the cool flesh that was starting to regain feeling after being treated with ice. The sensation that crept back under his skin was not relief, as he had hoped. It was a series of stings, no different from the sharp arrow that swept through him on the field. The last thing the coach needed on his team was a limping shortstop. He did come in, however, mostly to lambaste him for quitting the game because of a cramp. The player sat through his long, breathless ranting, not listening to anything the man had to say. He'd heard it all before; how this might be his last game, how much he's giving away, how sickening he was and how he had about as much game spirit as a slug _blah-dee-blah-dee-blah-blah…_

Another hit.

He couldn't hear the commentary, but by the rejoicing crowd, he could tell that the rival team had broken even with their score. Shaking his head, he pressed deeper into his skin, hissing as the leg responded by becoming even stiffer. He bit his lip and watched the exit door, somewhat longingly. No matter how he felt about baseball, playing it was far less boring than sitting around the sweaty uniforms and discarded shoe inserts. Dust and sweat was nothing compared to tiles and mildew, it appeared…

"Leon!"

The man jerked up his head, bored eyes wide with shock. He straightened himself, moving his head over to the source of the commotion.

Could it be…? Was it…?

It was.

It was!

"Sayaka?" He asked, voice meek, like he was answering a question by guessing the answer. Only this time, he guessed it right.

She swept in through the corridor, no doubt running past a number of security guards judging by her heavy breathing. Her stance was wide and her fists were clenched, sweat dripping from her brow. Several men banged on the locked door, trying to bust their way inside. Leon's eyes moved over her frame, the clips in her hair, the large bow at her chest, the rim of her ironed skirt that ended quite high up her thighs, the black socks that went over her knees… a picture-perfect representation of an ordinary high school teenager, who had broken into a stadium a moment ago and was as furious as a rabid hound.

"H-hey…" Leon muttered, scratching his scalp and trying to break contact with her glassy eyes. "Long time no see…"

"What the hell are you doing here, Leon?!" She asked, through she was not expecting an answer. "I let you guilt trip me into spending all my pocket money for a train ticket here, get into the stadium, sneak past security because I didn't have a ticket just to see you on that field, and then I see you walking away with a tail tucked in between your legs! Why did I even come here?! What was the point of seeing that?!"

"Sayaka, I had an injury! I can't play this ti -!"

"That's no injury!" She insisted, foaming at the mouth. She marched over to Leon's bench, leaning over his seated body and screaming until he cowered deeper into his place. "That's a fucking cramp! Do you know who gets work done despite having cramps? Half of the world's population, and on a monthly basis!" She took him by the collar of his shirt, bringing him up to face her, eye-to-eye. "Don't tell me that you can't handle that!"

"Sayaka, I busted my fucking leg!"

"No, you didn't! A cramp should not keep you down! It's a muscle spasm! You've been through worse! If you could take a beating from two guys and still have the energy to walk and flirt with me!"

"I wasn't flirting with you!" Leon insisted, pushing her away from him. His expression blazed with rage. How dare she waltz here and insult him? And how dare she bring all that up? He took a step forward and screamed, "I already told you how many guys attacked me!"

"Oh, right," Sayaka huffed, blowing a patch of hair from her eye. "Sixteen guys. I never bought that for a second, Leon! I know what really happened! My friend told me, you know!"

Leon narrowed his eyes in silent frustration. "It doesn't matter how many guys there were, I still wasn't flirting with you! Don't flatter yourself."

"Look that's… that's… – urgh!" She growled into her fists, unable to comprehend Leon's stage of advanced inanity. "That's not the point! The point is that I've seen you, broken and bleeding and alone, and you still had fight in you, and you still fought, and you had drive!" She grabbed a sodden towel hanging from a hook beside her, took it by its end and struck Leon over the head with it. He shielded his head, trying to back away. "Where is that drive, Leon?! Where is that drive I admired?! You have more drive to run from a girl holding a towel," he lectured him in between strikes, "but not enough drive to get out there and win the game!"

"I told you –ow! – I fucking told you that I – cut it out!" He took the wet cloth in his hand and tugged it out of Sayaka's. The swish burned her palm and she had to shake out the blotchy redness as he spoke in a low growl. "I fucking told you already! I'm in serious pain! I can't play, I can't even stand!"

"You're standing right now, idiot!"

Leon did not fully understand what she was implying for some time, but his head dropped to see his feet; perfectly aligned and supporting his weight without as much as a twinge of protest. He watched his feet with awe, even lifting up his stiff leg and stomping on the wet tiles. Nothing. His leg had become numb to the pain, but he was still able to control it. He'd never tell Sayaka that their fighting cured his throbbing muscle, but deep inside, he knew that this was exactly the case. He threw the towel over his shoulder.

"That proves nothing!" He remarked. "It's just that one hormone… you know? The one that kinda makes you numb when you're stressed! That's all!"

"It's not about _adrenaline_," she stretched out the word, crossing over her arms and leaning to him. "It's about _you_! That injured leg was all in your head because you were too lazy to go out there! You need drive! Motivation! Something that makes you do great things! And if you don't have that, all your talents and wishes are all for naught!"

"Sayaka, what…" Leon ticked his head to the side. His mouth warped into something of a perplexed grimace as he looked at her. "What… what do you mean?"

"I mean that…" She started in her fighting tone, but as soon as the beginning of a sentence moved over her lips, her shoulders slouched and her eyes became warm and motherly again, like she ran out of her anger and was now setting back into her coaxing charm. She spread out her small, delicate hands, and at first, Leon drooped leaned back, in fear of this being a trap she'd use to claw him. Instead, she gently took his hands in hers, keeping them steady and cozy while she displayed her reasoning.

Leon, for the first time in days, actually listened without either blowing a fuse or getting lost in the glimmer of her eyes. They were in Limbo – that soothing, warm middle that friends and couples should strive to be in. It was a strange feeling, though not necessarily an uncomfortable one.

"I… I spent my life around people who gave up on things too easily. I was daddy's little princess, and nobody ever wanted to get to know me better. Even my dad never spent much time with me, since it was hard for him to take time off work… my original idol group consisted of ten members. Now, there are only five of us. You know that girl you tried to save the night we met? She was the first to go…" Her fingers tightened around his palm to the point where the contact hurt. She swallowed hard and returned to her explanation. "My mom never even visited me when I was a child. I know who she is, where she lives and stuff… but she was never really a mother to me, ya know? I think the pressure of parenthood was too hard on her, and while I understand why, I've never been able to really forgive her." Her dark dusky hues linked with Leon's, her eyebrows knitting together. "And this is exactly why I don't want to see you give up! Especially on your dreams! If you want to pursue something like baseball, you should! But don't do it incompetently! Don't act like it's no big deal, because it is! If you start something and leave it unfinished, you could hurt some people, and you'll never see how good you'll be at something unless you push yourself! And that's why I always critiqued you when you brought up baseball! You played it, you were good at it but I could always tell how bored you were. And I don't wanna be like baseball to you…"

"Whoa, whoa, back up!" Leon said, his hands slipping out of Sayaka's. He blinked heavily at her while she formed her palm into a fist and used it to cover her mouth in slight shame. The baseball player cleared his throat, another roar from the stadium echoing around them. "What do you mean… you don't wanna be like baseball?"

"Music is very important to me. And it's important to you too, I know! But…" She bit at the fingernail on her thumb, trying to find the courage to continue. It was strange, in a way. The girl had no trouble coming over and overpowering security guards – who were still pounding at the door that now creaked and jumped off its hinges. But now, expressing her feelings, she needed a moment to compose herself. "I always believed you would be a great musician. I want to help you become one. But I have to be certain that you're serious about working with me because I… care… about you…"

"Huh?"

Sayaka all but jumped at him, the redness in her eyes back and shining brighter than ever. She took him by his shirt and shook him silly. "Open your eyes, ya big dope! I like you! Read my lips! I! Like! You! I've always liked you. And I don't wanna see you throw away your talent because you got bored with them, and that's why that fake cramp thing is pissing me off!" She turned away and averted her head while Leon was recovering from that confession, feeling like he had just been hit by a truck. He craned his head and watched the exit door, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he could say that he felt well enough to get back into the game.

"You made a choice to come here," Sayaka stated. "And I don't want you to waste your opportunity. You've come this far…" She shrugged and turned her head to him, her lips stretching into a pleasant, beaming smile. She clutched her hands near her heart, pirouetting on the tips of her toes and turning back to him. "I know you can do it, Leon! I know you can get into the Hall of Fame, and get a platinum record, and do whatever else you want! And I want to see it all. Starting now!" She stomped her foot and pointed at the door, just as the security cracked through the room and started breaking through. "I want to see you make a home run! I wanna see you win! I believe in you! Go out there and knock it outta the park! Go! Go, go, go!" Sayaka piped, waving him away while two large men in black broke through and ran towards them. Leon watched them for a second before responding.

"I'll go." He grabbed Sayaka by the wrist. "But I ain't going anywhere without ya!"

She ran, keeping up with his agile gait with an expression that was mostly thrill. They ran haphazardly through the wide, echoing tunnel of grey that lead into the field, successfully escaping the men chasing Sayaka before they even had a chance to see that the room had been abandoned. Before either of them knew it, they were out into the bright light, into the jungle of players and fans, where the air burned like flaming cobalt and the grass stung, where lives were broken and destinies were made. They were at the border, the line of the shadow that fell and separated the indoor stadium from the diamond field. As the two watched the grand arena, Sayaka was reminded of all her performances at once. It was the same rush of emotions, the struggle to do perfectly and give the audience what they wanted, to walk away with praise and glory… truly, sports weren't as different as the performing arts. There was the same pride of accomplishment after something was done well, after months of training and practice, blood, tears and sweat.

Without a word, Kuwata nodded to the field, making eye-contact with his trainer, who immediately summoned him onto the field. He nodded, releasing Sayaka's hand. He was off into the wilderness.

Looking over to Kuwata, the singer had a feeling that he would do excellently as a front man. He knew how to get the crowd on its feet already. They were mostly booing but… still.

"Go get 'em, Leon," she whispered to herself, pressing up against the cold metal wall so she wouldn't be spotted. "Go get 'em."

"_Bad luck, Rufus,"_ one of the pundits tutted as a man left the field on a stretcher. _"That's not how you use the bat."_

"_The crowd does not like that at all… h-hey, wait a minute, something else is happening!"_

There was a short moment of silence from the observation deck, but their lack of commentary was more than made up for by the hissing from the crowds. Leon waved to them, half-mockingly, being pulled aside and lectured by his coach. This went on for some time, until the men in the booth could give their two cents.

"_Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in."_

"_About time, too. The man took his dear sweet time nursing a cramp."_

"_Looks like he'll have to nurse more than a cramp once Nidai is done with him. He looks ready to break the kid apart!"_

"_Well, let's hope. It's the bottom of the ninth, bases are loaded and the team is just one hit away from victory. Wouldn't wanna scatter-brained punk to mess up my chances."_

"_Well, maybe but – what's this?! The kid is… he's stepping on the batting plate! He's… he has a bat and… everyone appears to be alright with Nidai's decision! Dear God, what is happening with this game?"_

"_I suppose we will just have to have faith in Nidai's coaching methods and wish the kid luck."_

"_W-w… well we can't do anything else, can we?!"_

"_Easy, Leiko. Remember what the doctor said about your stress levels…"_

"_I'LL STOP HAVING HIGH STRESS LEVELS WHEN YOU STOP SLEEPING WITH MY WIFE!"_

"_Aaaand there's the pitch!"_

The stadium became silent. A drop of a pin in this case would be considered a nuisance. The pitcher – an arrogant, spotted blond – lifted up his foot and aligned his shot. His arm spread out at a perfect line, he curved his wrist and flung the ball through the air.

As if time stopped, Leon could see the leather ball. It spun in the air, its surface becoming hotter and hotter, until the seams burst and the skin melted. His fingers twisted around the lacquered wood, and as he brought it closer and closer to the ball, he could feel the thumping in his chest, the very last inhale he took curling around his bloodstream. Sayaka's eyes weighted on him and singed through his back. A thousand eyes, each wanting him to fail and miss except those two sweet iridescent opals. He swallowed and felt the leather make contact with wood.

His ears rung with the beating of his heart.

This time, he didn't think the ball was splattered. This time, the sphere was fixed like a constant spot in space, but his body was the one trembling and vibrating around it. The skin on his arms rippled and his brain shook, like he was the epicenter of a destructive earthquake. Normally, he would push any object away with ease, but now, in this slow-motion projection, it took every ounce of his focus and determination to push it away from him and send it somewhere – anywhere. The orb finally moved from his bat, and it went up. He couldn't tell if the distance was inches or miles, but he watched it go.

The crowd looked at the object twirl and rise, all in equal, breathless stupor. The batter could only recognize his pulse, like he was connected through a giant speaker and his pounding controlled the wind, the tides, his fate. For the first time, his palms became sweaty, and his throat closed up. There was something else on the line here besides the game, a mental promise he made to himself and Sayaka. He would win and triumph. This was why he was so scared, and prayed the ball would reach enough distance. Baseball finally mattered to him.

His bat fell on the ground.

The crowd was still silent; all waiting for an announcer to grimly reach his verdict.

Through a shaky voice and trembling hands that held the microphone, the commentator declared.

"_It's… it's…"_ he swallowed hard as everyone's eyes were on the horizon. He took a deep breath to guide his emotions, so that they wouldn't get the best of him. The mass heard his sharp, forced exhale. _"It's gone."_

And the crowd went wild.

Like a speeding bullet, Leon zoomed past his fellow sportsmen, who were still aghast and watching the dark night sky that ate the ball. The batter ran, collecting high-fives from the less bitter teammates, and even scored a hug from his coach, who spun him around and slapped him on his back before sending him away. He player stretched out his arms, basking in all the glory as the crowd stood up, sobbing and enthusing over the victory. Enemies reconciled, old lovers found their flame, strangers became friends, friends became soul mates and all through the magic of baseball and the wonder of victory. Nobody was spared from the rush of emotions that burst in the stadium after this walk-off homerun. Trumpets and chimes blasted through the speakers while the winning team rejoiced. All players and those who cheered for them received wings, willing to soar away and touch the sky.

"_That was…_" a man in the report cubicle sniffled, _"that was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."_

"_Are you… are you crying?"_

"_What can I say? I love a good game."_

"_Well, let's not get carried away, this is a tournament for high school kids…"_

"_Do not ruin this, I don't have much going for me!"_

"_But back on the subject, I have never seen the crowd this happy in all my years of reporting! Nidai has a real gem on his hands…"_

"_Speaking of which, where is Leon Kuwata?"_

"_I…" _the man muttered quietly, observing the field, now crowded with cheering fans, coaches and players alike. But there was one person missing from the crowd. _"I… I don't know. I really don't know."_

/***/

As soon as she saw him, Sayaka draped her hands over his shoulders, jumping on him. He took her by the waist and spun her, the fabric of her skirt curling like a sail, like waves during strong wind. The noise that plugged up their ears was softer now, and even though they were barely a couple of feet away from the commotion, they still had a feeling they were alone in the world, just them and their triumph.

"You did it!" Sayaka beamed at him, sliding a hand up the sleeve of his ruffled uniform. Her palm landed on his shoulder, and right there, her smile broke and fell into a serious expression. She was not showing fury this time, or even exasperation. The look on her face was a look of fondness. "I… I knew you could do it."

"That makes one of us," Leon smirked. "Truth be told, I was scared shitless."

"I kinda predicted you'd make the home run," she teased, moving a strand of his hair from his face and behind his ear. "I'm psychic, remember?"

"I remember."

The two stood in time, every motion and blink slowed down so they could see the stars and the moon in each other's motions. They moved closer, Leon's hands cupping Sayaka's chin while her hands trailed through his fiery red hair. Darkness fell over them once they closed their eyes, but it was a pleasant darkness, the kind they wanted to get lost in together, and never find their way back. Sayaka's lips were the first to part, pressing onto Leon's softly, smoothly, and almost timidly. It was neither the most experienced kiss, nor the most ferocious one, but they could hear fireworks in the distance nonetheless, each other's pulsing blood, the short breaths that escaped them.

Being the first to initiate the kiss, Sayaka was the first to part, watching Leon's face for a while before he snapped back, un-pursed his lips and opened his eyes. She giggled with her high, girlish tone that frankly, Leon had missed a lot. They were still touching, hands on warm, excited bodies. Somehow, neither had the desire to break away from this heat, and they stayed together for some time, their foreheads pressed together while havoc reigned on the field behind them.

"You sure you don't wanna go out there?" Sayaka asked, ticking her head. "You didn't even get a trophy or anything."

"I got my trophy," he responded through an arrogant smile. "Dontcha worry."

"Where is it?"

To answer her question, Leon put his arm around her waist, pulling her body close. Realizing what he meant, Sayaka chuckled, nuzzling his neck.

"That's cute. But if you ever call me your possession again I'll kick you."

"Duly noted."

Seconds before the team rushed to the locker room, the two straightened themselves and walked, hand in hand, the neon glow lighting their auras and illuminating the path of their indefinite, exhilarating future.


End file.
